


The Coolest People We Know

by OhMyGlobWhatthefrickamievendoing



Series: Jerome Valeska's not-so-little little crush [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/F, F/M, Future Fic, Happy endings..., Hurt/Comfort, It's not as bad as it sounds i swear!!!, Kinda, M/M, Panic Attacks, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 18:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10224221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhMyGlobWhatthefrickamievendoing/pseuds/OhMyGlobWhatthefrickamievendoing
Summary: Through the years Barbara Kean has learnt about the coolest people in Jerome Valeska's life, whether she wanted to or not.





	

“The coolest person I know,” says Jerome ,dreamily, from where he’s draped across the couch, head in her lap, “is a sixteen year old boy.”

It’s two weeks since Jerome had brought the literal purge to Gotham city and one since his face had been...reattached...and she’s the only one at the Sirens. Tabby had long since left for the day, dragging Butch behind her, a wicked glint in her eyes, and dear Eddie was off somewhere in the city, fighting off corrupt pigs and dead birds while desperately trying to bring the bowler hat back into fashion.

“Is it Bruce Wayne?” Asks Barbara, as she runs her fingers through Jerome’s hair. _She missed this boy_ she thinks _with his bright red hair and wild eyes._

“It’s Bruce Wayne.” He replies, just as dreamily as before.

“Hmmm.” Barbara remembers Bruce Wayne from Ozzie’s mayoral party, all those months ago, with his narrowed eyes that flittered all over the place, scanning it for exists or monsters she wasn’t sure. Barbara remembers Bruce Wayne at her door step, all those centuries ago, wide-eyed, shy and nervous as he looked at Selina with nothing less than awe. “He _is_ very cool. But a bit too young don’t you think? How _old_ are you anyway?” Barbara boops his nose for good measure.

“ _Welllllllll_ ,” Jerome pokes at a scarred cheek with his tongue and fiddles with his thumbs, “ _technically_ I’m still eighteen but I was dead, for what? One? One and a half? – years, so I’m twenty?? Resurrection is _weird_.”

“Too young.”

“Ya think so?”

“Defa- _nitely_. He'd think you were some kinda creep or something. _Besides_ you took him hostage and tried to kill him like twice?? _And_ you threatened his loved ones - _yes even if it was just the butler._ Trust me honey, that’s a deal breaker for boys. Plus he’s a good kid. Sane _ya know?_ Probably has good morals too. Also he’s straight. Probably.”

Jerome sighs unhappily and buries his face in her lap.

 

* * *

 

Its five years later when Barbara is once again alone at the Sirens and feels a strange sense of déjà vu when Jerome flops onto the couch, plants his head in her lap and sighs dreamily, “The coolest person I know dresses as a giant bat.”

Barbara has heard of him of course. _The Batman._ Gotham’s newest addition. Some sort of vigilante. Ozzie had been kind enough to give her the details , _that man forgave much too easily_ , and Barbara could admit that the man _intrigued_ her. Now looking at the dopey look on Jerome’s face she felt something slither into her mind and settle down, at home with all the other withering creatures already present there. “ _Hmmmm._ Maybe Wayne’s not as sane as I first thought.”

She feels it as Jerome tenses. His eyes bore into hers with a clear warning and she has to fight back the shudder from the spike of pleasure that courses through her body at having such a dangerous creature at her mercy.

“Don’t worry,” she boops his nose, “I won’t tell.”

 

* * *

 

Ten years later and once again Jerome is sprawled out on her couch, only now he’s no longer Jerome but the _Joker_. Something much, _much_ more dangerous with bright red hair swapped for toxic green and wild brown eyes now a dangerous green. “The coolest person I know,” he says dreamily once again, “wants me dead but doesn’t have the _guts_ to do it.”

This time they are not alone. A blonde girl, a bit too similar to herself for her liking, had skipped in after the Joker and was now trying to teach a bored Ivy, who had made it her duty to be the sole caretaker of the Siren’s lone potted plant, to blow bubble gum.

 

* * *

 

Two years later and Barbara should be closing up for the day, it’s passed 3a.m. now and no one is left, but is instead curled up on the couch flipping through some book Bane had left behind, glass of wine in hand, when the Joker storms in, soaked to the bone and looking like a drowned rat. His mouth is pulled down in a snarl, not an unusual sight after the bat had left Gotham to a fake-bat so he could go play with his new friends, the _Justice League_. Barbara puts her book and glass down, getting ready for another late night crazed rant from the Joker who was starting to seem less like a dangerous criminal and more like a jilted lover, _Barbara wondered if that was what she was like back at the beginning_ , when instead of storming up to her he turns on his heel, hissing up at the dark shadow that had flowed into the room after him, unnoticed.

Oh. _Ohhhhh_. This. This was going to get _very_ interesting. She delicately picked up her glass.

“ _Joker_.”

“You. _You_. How dare you _leave_ me!!!!! With some – some _FAKE_ _bat!!!_ You can’t _CAN’T_!!! Just _leave me!! You **need** me._ ”

 _I need you._ Barbara hears. Batman does not. She thinks of Jim. She refills her glass.

“ ** _I. Don’t. Need. You._** ” Batman’s voice is an angry growl. His gloves are stained red and his cape is seared. One of Joker’s shoulders is sticking out in a way Barbara is sure it shouldn’t and his nose looks too flat, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Barbara wonders how many Joker had to kill to bring Batman back, if the fake-bat was one of them. “ _My life **doesn’t** revolve around you._ ” Barbara tries to hide a snort in her glass, but it’s drowned out by the animalistic screech that the Joker lets out.

“ _ **LIAR**. Liarliarliarliarliarliar_.” The Joker is hunched over now, hands quivering like they are trying to grasp onto the last shreds of reality, breath coming out too fast and _oh no. Oh no baby._ Barbara had thought it was an obsession. Nothing more, nothing less. But now she remembers Penguin hysterically refusing to give up Ed, even at the cost of his own life. She remembers herself, all dolled up and watching her whole life shatter around her, as she watched Jim kiss another woman. It wasn’t _just_ an obsession. _It was love._ Ugly and twisted but love all the same.

And now she watches the Joker, clawing at his own head, whispering soft _youneedme_ ’s, his breath coming out too fast and too short and Batman doesn’t move. He watches the whole scene through blank lenses. _Disinterested._ And Barbara wants to _scream_. Because _no_. _NO._ _This is not how it ends._ Not for a creature as magnificent and dangerous as the Joker.

It’s a sob that does it. High and desperate and needy that springs the Batman into action. He moves a hand slowly to one of the Joker’s hands, wraps it loosely around his wrist. The Joker’s breathing becomes harsher, more desperate. “I’m not leaving.” The voice is still a growl but now its smoother, still firm and yet softer. “I’m not leaving. This is my city. My home. I’m not leaving.” _I’m not leaving you._ He slowly manages to tug the Joker’s hand away from his head and brings it up to his chest, places it gently on the insignia and holds it there. “With me. Together. Slowly. Gently.” The Batman breathes, slow and steady and deep, and slowly the Joker starts to copy. Batman never stops speaking in that firm, steady tone and Barbara is sure this is the longest he has ever spoken. His other hand has stilled the Joker’s hand which still clutches his head and is now drawing slow circles on it. Barbara is not sure how long it takes but they are both standing too close, foreheads brushing, and somewhere along the way Bruce had become taller.

The Joker was something much, _much_ more dangerous than Jerome Valeska and yet he was also something much more vulnerable than him, thought Barbara as she watched the Batman, gently pick up an unresponsive Joker once he had finally calmed down, as if he weighed next to nothing.

Batman angles his head towards her, white lenses narrowed, a clear warning. She feels no pleasure at having such a dangerous creature at her mercy.

“Don’t worry,” she sips at her wine, “I won’t tell.”

 

* * *

 

Four years later and it’s been a year since the Joker died.

“He misses him,” says Selina, with a sigh, “even if he won’t admit it. He’s running himself ragged. Doing anything and everything for a proper distraction.”

“Poor baby.” Says Harley from her perch on Ivy’s lap. After moving on from the Joker, Harley’s hatred of Batman had turned into a strange sort of affection that Barbara _really_ couldn’t explain. “He’s hurting and I don’t think he even _knows_ why.”

“And taking it out on everyone else. Even the lower level common criminals.” Says Ivy with a slight huff.

“It’s already been a year. He should move on.” Says Tabby, arm draped over Barbara’s shoulder.

“They had something special though, even if Bats never acknowledged it. They _were_ something special. It’s always been _them_. _From the beginning._ ” Says Barbara, watching her wine slosh around in her glass.

To the others the beginning was a chemical factory, to her it was a magic show in a charity gala.

She needed something stronger.

 

* * *

 

Two years later the Joker’s back from the dead, _again_ , a year after that and he’s dead, _again_ , but this time he’s taken the Batman with him.

They died together. That’s what everyone is saying. The Batman, brave, _noble Batman_ , had died to make sure that the Joker _stayed dead_. Had died to make sure there was no way for the madman, _the monster_ , to weasel out of what was his due this time around. To make sure the Joker got crushed and stayed crushed, beneath Gotham herself.

But Barbara, _Barbara_ , knew the truth. The Batman stayed not due to some selfless act but because of a _selfish one_. Bruce, once wide-eyed, shy and nervous Bruce, now the coolest person Barbara ever knew, hadn’t wanted to be left alone again. And to that she could toast.

 

* * *

 

Six years later and Barbara has aged quite gracefully, if she would say so herself, _thank you very much_.

Six years later and Barbara is once again alone at the Sirens, behind the bar, enjoying the almost eerie silence when it’s shattered by the sound of the doors being flung open.

A man with bright red hair and dangerous green eyes, practically skips in and hops on to a stool, whistling a tune that tugs on a memory from too long ago.

“The coolest person I know,” he says dreamily, “is a volunteer at a shelter.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to Bad Influence by Pink and ughhhh I kinda was reminded of Barbara.....?????? And I ended up writing this???? Even though I've had about 8 other batjokes fics in drafts for like the past year???? Ughmmmm 
> 
> So yeah whether you liked it or not I'd love to get comments on it to know your thoughts and if you want come say hi on tumblr @ohmyglobwhatthefrickamievendoing .
> 
> Have a nice day! =)


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